


Lego Therapy

by Glitter_Bug



Series: Lego Fun With Billy and Steve [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Both Steve and Billy have some self-esteem issues, Emotions, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Lego, Lucky they have each other to help, M/M, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, Physical Therapy, Post Season 3, Recovery, Swearing, but they both want more
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25933420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glitter_Bug/pseuds/Glitter_Bug
Summary: Billy struggles with his recovery after the Mindflayer.Steve helps.With some Lego.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Lego Fun With Billy and Steve [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889752
Comments: 16
Kudos: 119





	Lego Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CockAsInTheBird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CockAsInTheBird/gifts).



> Inspired by CockAsInTheBird and their amazing Harringrove Lego headcanon on Tumblr.  
> This is my first fic ever but I had so much fun that I'm not stopping now!
> 
> Warnings for one use of ableist language (Billy against himself) and one use of possible homophobic language (Billy against himself again- that boy has some self esteem issues). 
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything else.

"This is so fucking dumb." Billy's growl echoed across the hospital room. He picked up the beginnings of his Lego cow. and threw it hard onto the floor- watching as it split into a dozen black and white pieces.   
The box of Lego followed shortly after. 

He hated physical therapy. Despised it. He knew his body wasn't working like it did before, that's probably to be expected when some inter-dimensional monster spears you like a kebab and leaves you bleeding out on a dirty mall floor.   
But it was still hard to take, and Billy didn't see why he had to spend hours each week proving his limitations over and over again until they finally left him to rest.   
Bad enough that he was usually watched over by a gaggle of patronising nurses and condescending doctors.   
Bad enough that they'd seen him cry and puke and, on one excruciatingly embarrassing occasion, actually piss himself with pain.   
Bad enough that they wouldn't just leave him to rot in bed like he asked.   
But now Steve Harrington was there to witness just how pathetic and useless he'd become. 

  
Not that Steve hadn't seen him weak before. Billy didn't even remember it, mostly due to the whole bleeding out and being unconscious issue, but the nurses all gushed over how sweet it was that Billy's _best friend_ hadn't wanted to leave his side; told him how Steve had raged at the doctors until they threatened to have security escort him out, how he'd spent two nights curled up on a bench in the waiting area until Joyce Byers had managed to coax him first into a hug and then into a shower and a change of clothes- reassuring him that they'd be back as soon as the doctor said it was safe for Steve to visit. 

Steve had marched back before then anyway, clean and a bit more rested but no less determined. He had sweet-talked the nurses and charmed them all with those soft, Bambi eyes until they'd finally _finally_ let him in to Billy's room. Let him sit by Billy's bed and talk to him about everything and nothing. Let him be the one to gently wipe Billy's face when tears started to spill from nightmares that Billy didn't even know he'd had. Let him stay there and keep watch while Billy rested and healed. 

He'd been the first thing that Billy saw when he woke up.   
Billy remembered thinking that the world had a funny way of making some of his dreams come true. 

And Steve had stayed. For some unfathomable reason, Steve had stayed.   
Had stayed through Billy feeding and peeing and breathing through tubes.   
Had stayed through Billy jerking awake with bitten off screams and nails clawing at his face.   
Had stayed through Billy curled in a ball and crying silent tears because he didn't have the strength to face another day of pain.   
Steve had stayed through Billy stumbling and sweating through a lap of the room, one trembling step at a time. He'd given Billy a double thumbs up and a smile that would've looked patronising on anyone else, but on Steve it just looked proud. 

Steve had only left when Billy shouted and swore at him to 'get the fuck out, Harrington. Haven't you had enough of gawking at the cripple yet?' 

He left the room and Billy's heart clenched and sank after the first minute. He curled into himself on the bed, ignoring the ache in his ribs and the burn in his legs as he wrapped both arms around his knees and reminded himself that this is what he does best. Pushes and pushes and lashes out until even someone as kind and patient and caring as Steve reaches their limit and leaves. 

Steve came back twenty minutes later, carrying an armful of brown bags and a two large plastic cups. He flumped himself down on the end of Billy's bed, arranging the bags between them and handing one of the cups to Billy.   
"You looked like you needed a bit of a boost," he said- voice soft with more warmth than Billy thought he'd ever deserved. "Got these from Rosie's Place- she honestly does the best cherry pie you've ever tasted. Might even be better than Dustin's mom's. And the shakes? Man you have not lived until you've tried her peanut butter and chocolate mix. Trust me on this. You have not lived." He didn't look at Billy as he spoke, quickly plating up a mix of bacon, pancakes and eggs onto plastic plates and nearly upending his precariously balanced shake as he shook out the last of the fries from the bag. Billy's hand jerked out quickly to catch it, earning him another beaming smile from Steve.   
"See- those reflexes are still there. Just needed the right incentive. Thanks!"   
Billy smiled back, taking a gulp from Steve's cup.   
Steve stayed the whole of that night, stealing bites of Billy's cherry pie and falling asleep in the chair as they watched the tiny TV at the side of Billy's bed. 

But the Lego. The Lego was a new low.   
It was all Max's fault anyway.   
Usually Billy's fine motor sessions took place on a Wednesday morning, when he had no visitors and could hide away in what looked like a cross between a classroom and a storeroom, picking up pompoms with huge tweezers or writing his name with chunky crayons like he was back in kindergarten. On one memorable occasion he'd been given a chunk of bright blue Playdoh and breezily encouraged to make 'whatever comes to mind'.   
Nurse Paula had rapidly regretted that after the third rather realistic cock and balls. The last set had veins and everything. Billy had been proud.   
But Max. Damn Max just had to mention Lucas' new Lego obsession within earshot of one of the more enthusiastic nurses and by the next week, Billy had a whole new fine motor program in place.   
Which meant that on the day Steve came to visit, Billy was sitting in bed with a box of assorted Lego pieces next to him and a simple instruction book open on his lap.   
He was supposed to start with towers and simple shapes- get used to picking up the pieces and manipulating them into place, building up his precision gradually.   
He'd said 'fuck that' and moved straight on to the animals.   
And now he'd been bested by a cow.   
Not even a full cow. A couple of white legs and the start of a body.   
He couldn't face it.   
Couldn't face Steve seeing just how far off healed he actually was.   
Couldn't face the thought of more months and months struggling through the kinds of tasks that four-years olds can do with ease.   
Couldn't face the fact that even when he got out, he wouldn't be able to drive- hell he wouldn't be able to check the oil in his car without help. He couldn't walk far without getting out of breath, and even when he pushed himself through it, his legs would shake and his head would spin until he had to sink to the floor and wait for the room to stay still. He couldn't face the thought of going back to the pool- not that he even had the strength to swim anymore- which meant no job which meant no chance of ever saving enough money to get himself out of the house and out of Hawkins and away from Neil.   
Billy's mind started to whirl as he realised exactly what was waiting for him once he actually left the hospital. All the little things he took for granted, all the little freedoms, gone. He'd be totally dependent on Neil for everything and- judging from his lack of warmth during his one and only visit, when he'd stayed in the doorway and told Billy not to expect any money for medical bills- he doubted he'd be getting much in the way of tender loving care once he was at home.   
Shit   
So Billy threw the cow. It didn't make anywhere near enough noise or mess to satisfy him, so he hurled the box along with it. Much noisier, much messier but it still did nothing to quell the rage and fear inside him.   
Steve looked up from his chair, where he'd been clicking together a few random bricks into simple forms. Billy met his glance, blue eyes hard and simmering and daring Steve to say something. Instead, Steve reached out slowly- plucking the instruction manual from where it had slipped onto the floor and began flicking through it, idlily clicking together a few of the bricks in his lap, until he stopped, eyes narrowing and then opening wider and a little 'oh' forming on his lips. He turned the pages back and forth a few times, nodding to himself and standing up from the chair to sit next to the mess of Lego now on the ground beside the bed. His previously relaxed manner became a lot more purposeful- searching out pieces from the pile Billy had thrown onto the floor and placing them in a deliberate manner.   
Billy tried to hide his interest, still a little ashamed from his earlier outburst but unwilling to let go of the ounce of anger he could still feel simmering, it felt familiar and it was honestly a bit of a relief to finally be feeling something other than misery and self-pity. Instead he focused his attention on the muted TV, losing himself in a silent soap opera until he heard Steve make a little noise of satisfaction. He stood up, moving closer to the bed and Billy could hide his curiosity no longer.   
"It's for you," Steve beamed- and Billy tried to hide the confused expression he knew was on his face.   
Steve was holding out a red and yellow...bird? There were definitely wings. And a beak. And some kind of spikes sticking out everywhere.   
"Is that a chicken? Are you calling me a chicken Harrington? That's kinda a harsh thing to say to the guy who literally died saving your ass." But Steve's smile was infectious and Billy couldn't keep out the warmth behind the words, and he was relieved to see that Steve's smile only grew larger.   
"Close. But not a chicken. Guess again Hargrove. Look at this bit" and he gestured to the red and orange spikes on top of the bird.   
"A boy chicken? One of those loudmouth ones with the frilly heads? A cockerel? Are you fucking kidding me, you made a Lego cock?"   
Steve laughed so hard that his hair practically vibrated with it. It was contagious and Billy found himself laughing too, catching his breath only to take one more look at the spiky bird and start all over again. He only stopped when the ache in his ribs made itself known again and he drew in a pained breath. Steve stopped too, a look of concern filling his brown eyes and he reached out a hand- warm and comforting on Billy's shoulder.   
"You OK?"   
"Yeah, just- haven't laughed like that in a long while. Outta practise I guess." 

Steve left his hand there a little longer, giving Billy's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he removed it and reached once more for his Lego creation.   
"OK- try again. Third time lucky. Not a chicken, not a cockerel- it's in the bird family though. Or well, not exactly in it. It's not real." 

"Not real?" Billy raised an eyebrow. You're trying to get me to guess an animal you've just made up?"   
"I haven't made it up. I read about it. It's from a myth or a legend or something. Greek I think." Steve chewed his lip as he thought. It definitely wasn't cute. Billy was adamant about that. 

"OH! Yeah, it's a kind of car too! The name." Steve announced, looking pleased with this new clue. Billy was obviously still looking perplexed, as Steve began to walk him through it slowly. "Come on, Billy. It's a bird. Look at the colours. Look extra hard at the red and orange and yellow bits. Remind you of anything? Think about a car that's called..." 

"FIREBIRD!" Billy grinned in triumph. "A firebird- a phoenix! Damn Harrington that's so clever." 

Billy was glad he was looking right at Steve at that moment, there was a shine in his eyes than Billy had never seen there before and the glow of his smile beat any summer sunshine in Cali, hands down. A blush rapidly spreading across his cheeks completed perhaps the prettiest picture Billy had ever seen. Steve lowered his face suddenly, running a hand through his hair as he mumbled. 

"Nah, it's not that clever, I copied the chicken in the book and then just added on some flames. I just copied. I'm not really that creative-"   
There was something in his posture and tone that Billy needed to chase away, right now. He reached out and gently prised the phoenix out of Steve's grip- feeling the warmth of Steve's fingers as he carefully peeled them from the bird.   
"Hey. Listen. It's clever. You improved those dumbass instructions- made something totally new, right? Something there's not even a picture of because it doesn't exist. That's kinda the definition of creative right there. How did you even think of it?" 

If anything, Steve drew further into himself. Billy felt guilt pool in his stomach and a sour taste fill his mouth, but then Steve spoke- whispered- "It's like you. The bird, the phoenick thing, its whole thing is about dying and then coming back- bigger and brighter than before. And that's totally what you did, you-" Billy heard the thickness in Steve's voice, the crack of emotion, "you died and it was awful, it was horrible and you were _dead_ but you, look at you," and Steve looked up, his eyes filling with tears but he locked them onto Billy's, "you came back so strong and so good and you try so hard every day and I don't think you even realise how well you're doing right now. How damn proud of yourself you should be." 

He has to stop then. Hide his face again and take a few shuddering breaths. Billy's glad for the respite, he dragged his hand down his face and it comes away wet. His heart is glowing with Steve's words, the utter conviction behind them. Steve believes what he's saying, genuinely believes that Billy is doing well. Billy doesn't think he's heard the words 'good' and 'proud' in relation to himself since, well, since his mother probably. 

Billy manages to get his expression under control by the time Steve lifts his head. His eyes are red but still so full of that pride and Billy finds himself wanting to do whatever it takes to be good and strong and prove himself worthy of such a look. 

But one step at a time. 

He takes a moment to look over the phoenix properly, turning it over in his hand and taking in every detail. Every red and orange and yellow spike. Every block that Steve picked out of that mess on the ground and turned into something bright and strong and good. 

Billy turned to look at Steve, no longer hunched over, but still holding some tension in his body. He's smiling that faint smile which Billy knows isn't real and his eyes won't meet Billy's anymore. 

Billy is determined to change that. 

"A phoenix." Billy grinned at Steve, tongue starting to poke out from between his teeth. "I see it. A firebird." 

Steve turns to look at him, and Billy feels himself smiling his old smile, his winning Hargrove smile. He lets it all shine out over Steve. 

"It's perfect." He placed the phoenix on the table next to his bed- perching it in front of his clock and moving his Walkman into the drawer to make room for it. He wags his tongue out at Steve, pausing a moment before grinning even wider.   
"Now, every morning, the first thing I see will be a hard, red cock waiting for me."   
Steve spluttered, face flooding red and launching the instruction book at him. Billy's doesn't even try to duck, just grins wider as the paper hits him in the face and falls to the floor. 

  
It's only later, as Billy is relaxing on his bed while Steve is picking up the rest of the Lego on the floor and dropping it all back in the box that Billy realises something.   
"Oh shit, I should hide it. Otherwise Nurse freakin' Ratched is gonna make me break it all up. You think she'd notice if I stash it with my shampoo?" Billy grabs at his washbag and empties everything out, turning the phoenix over and over to try and get it to fit. 

Steve glanced over, concern flickering over his eyes. "She might be a bit suspicious when she sees everything you've left out," he watches as Billy admits defeat- cramming his toiletries back in the bag and holding the phoenix close to his chest. He sits up and looks around the room, but there's nowhere the bird can hide without it being obvious. Billy slumps back down on the bed, biting his lip. 

  
"I don't want to break it," he mumbles, eyes downcast, "I wanna keep it. It's mine."  
  
Steve can hear the catch in Billy's voice, notices the tremble in his hands as he clutches the bird.   
  
"It's not fair," Billy whispers, "I never get to- I always have to- it's not _fair_." Billy knows he's being silly, being childish, being a pussy. But it isn't fair. Steve worked hard on his phoenix and it means too much to Billy to just let it be broken up and tossed back into the box, to be mixed up and given out to the next idiot who forgets how their fingers should move.   
  
"I could take it," Steve's voice is back to that gentle softness, that tone that Billy knows he should hate and rage against, but instead it makes him feel cared for, feel safe for the first time in god knows how long. "I could sneak it out and take it home. I promise it'll be safe. I could put it in your room ready for when you-" Steve stops suddenly, a blush filling his face again. "I mean... shit I wasn't going to tell you yet but- I thought maybe Max had mentioned...you don't have to, of course you don't have to, why would you-" he's rambling now, words coming too fast as he paces the room. Billy reaches out to grab his arm and make him stop.   
  
"Steve, slow down. You've lost me. What don't I have to do?"   
  
"Stay with me." Steve blurts out, "I know things aren't...great at your house, and I have a guest room on the ground floor so you wouldn't have to tackle the stairs yet and my parents are never home so I thought, maybe-" he cuts himself off, tugging a hand through his hair.   
  
Billy leans over, gently pulling Steve's hand away from his hair- waiting until Steve is looking at him before he speaks.   
"You being serious Stevie? Uh, Steve. You want me there?" Billy daren't hope, he must've misheard. Or it's for a night or so- a sleepover. He's misunderstood, as always, got the shitty end of the wrongest stick and now Steve's gonna use it to beat him with.   
  
Steve stares down at him, his eyes filling once more with that care and concern and something that always makes Billy's heart skip a few beats. He isn't smiling though, his face serious.   
"Of course I want you there Bill. If you want to. There's no pressure but, uh," he looks sheepish, "Max may have already starting moving you in. I kinda mentioned the idea to her, to see if she thought you'd be up for it and word got out and well- you know how enthusiastic the brats can be. So your room's pretty much ready when you are. If you are, I mean."   
  
Billy can't talk. It's too much. He holds the phoenix closer with one hand, the other still clutching at Steve's sleeve. He breaths in, gives himself a moment and nods.  
"Yeah, I'd like that. I'd really like that."  
  
He hands the phoenix to Steve, who takes it with a smile.   
  
  


_'There is a bird in love with its death_  
_Who, for the sake of a new beginning_  
_Will burn itself alive.'_

Resurrection and Ashes- Adonis  



End file.
